Punisher
by MutantLover09
Summary: Nothing is more dangerous than a man with nothing to lose. AU Rated M for language.


Punisher

Summary: Nothing is more dangerous than a man with nothing to lose. AU

_Aw, shit. Shit, shit, shit. _A man sped through a dirty alley, his shadow was cast onto the brick walls by the full moon. He splashed into an ankle-deep puddle of murky water, but continued running, clutching the bag across his shoulder tighter. His rasping pants echoed out around him as he ran faster, the feeling of eyes watching him causing the hairs on the back of his neck to rise. A shadow passed across the moon, and the thief cringed, running faster.

"Gotta hide," he whispered, panting heavily. "He's gonna find me." The thief stumbled, his foot getting caught on a heavy piece of metal sticking out from under a dumpster. He pin-wheeled his arms to keep from falling and continued running, limping a bit. The bag on his shoulder seemed to get heavier with every stride he took, and his breath came out in fast, uneven pants. He didn't know how long he'd been running … probably since the house where he'd gotten all the goods. And, damn, were they heavy.

The thief busted out onto a nearly deserted street, sweat pouring down his face, sticking his black sweatshirt to his back and sides. He could still feel the sensation of watching eyes, so he continued to run, weaving jerkily through late-night traffic. After he crossed the street, he ducked into another alley and came to a shaking halt behind a dumpster. The man pressed his back against the brick wall, placing his hands on his knees. He felt the urge to vomit, but somehow managed to beat the urge down by an act of sheer will.

_I am never running again._ The man coughed and spit onto the dirty ground beneath him, taking the bag off his shoulder to dump it to the ground as well. He instantly felt relieved to have the weight lifted from his aching back, and he released a tight sigh as he leaned his back to stare at the starry night sky. The young man laughed softly, having regained his breath after several long moments of gasping.

"Ha-ha-ha, I did it. I did it. Screw you, Marcos. Said I couldn't do it, fuck you, man." A grin split the dark haired male's face, and he wiped a sleeve across his sweaty forehead. He'd gotten into the fancy house and out with all the jewelry and valuables he could carry _and_ he hadn't been caught by the police … or worse. It was cause for celebration.

The man, Julian, a common thief, reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette. He stuck it in his mouth, mumbling, "Knew I could do it. Fuckin' Marcos with his fuckin' paranoia. Ha." His words were muffled by the cigarette as he raised his lighter up to light the victory smoke.

"You know," a cold, deadly voice spoke up, freezing Julian's hand halfway to his mouth, "those things can kill you."

Julian had time to gasp and choke on the unlit cigarette before a tall and heavily muscled figure appeared in front of him from seemingly nowhere. The thief tried to run, but in his haste, he tripped over his own feet and landed hard on his side, cracking his knees against the ground. The eighteen year old cried out at the unexpected pain and curled into a ball, clenching his jaw tightly. He'd lost his cigarette in the fall … but that was the least of his problems.

The dark figure that had shocked him moved forward and stepped over Julian's huddled form. He raised a booted foot and nudged open the bag that the thief had dropped, giving a soft hum when he saw what was inside. Then, he turned his eerily glowing, green eyes down onto the thief. The rest of his face was cast in shadow along with his body in general. All Julian could see was the man's broad shoulders, spiky hair, and shockingly thin waist.

"H-hey, look, man," Julian stuttered, dragging himself backwards to get away from the shadowy figure. "You can take whatever you want. I-I won't stop you." He wanted to get to his feet, but he didn't think his trembling legs would allow such a thing.

The dark man made a small sound of disgust, and Julian had a suspicion that he was sneering down at him. "I'm not here to take these things," he rumbled, his deep voice somehow sounded like it was filled with shards of ice. It made Julian shiver.

"Then … then what do you want?" Julian asked softly, his chest rising and falling as he desperately tried to control his rising fear. He thought he knew who the man was … but he prayed that he was wrong.

The man above Julian, standing over him like an avenging angel, answered in his harsh voice, "Justice." Before the thief could question the man's statement, a painful blow was delivered to his stomach that sent him sprawling over onto his back. His breath left him, and he gripped his midsection, coughing and gasping. The shadow man didn't stop his assault there. He sent another devastating kick into Julian's side, forcing the young man to cry out in agony.

It was several hits later before Julian managed to shout for the man to stop. He pleaded through the tears of pain streaming down his face, struggling to deflect the man's thick boots from hitting him. Salty blood erupted in the thief's mouth after biting through his tongue, and he choked on it. As if sensing his fight to breathe, the shadow man paused, staring dispassionately down at Julian as the young man rolled onto his side and spit out a mouthful of blood.

Julian's body was aching all over and there was a fiery pain in his abdomen. Bruises were already rising across his tanned skin. Even his bones seemed to ache. The thief supported his shaking body on his left arm, and he held his other arm to the throbbing part of his back. He didn't look up at his attacker as he gasped out, "Why are you doing this?" The injured young man cringed visibly when the shadowy man crouched over him, invading his personal space.

The thief's brown eyes widened as he finally saw the face of his assailant. The man had to be in his late twenties with a mess of pure white hair. It hung down in his face that was lined with marks of stress and anger. His intense green eyes held an edge in them that told of unspeakable horrors and past pain. It made him look older than he really was. He was dressed in a pair of baggy black pants with a thick belt around his slim waist and a tight, dark shirt that clung to his overly muscled chest and bulging biceps. A jagged scar ran down the right side of his face that disappeared beneath the pale collar of his shirt. But the most defining thing about him – the thing that confirmed Julian's fears – was the DP symbol across the man's chest that had been ripped open at some point, but was sewn back up.

This was the protector of Amity Park. The merciless avenger of the innocent. This man was Phantom.

Julian felt his heart stall in his chest for a moment at the mere sight of Phantom. The ghost-like man was known for his vicious tendencies towards those that broke the law. Julian had been told stories about Phantom. Years ago, the ghost had been referred to as Danny Phantom, and he'd been the grinning face of justice. But something had happened to him. Something changed him, morphed him into the frightening figure before Julian now. No one knew or understood what had happened. Julian was very afraid.

Phantom reached forward and grabbed the thief's chin in a large, gloved hand. He squeezed his hand around Julian's face and narrowed his eyes. "Why did you kill her?" he questioned in a hushed voice that was filled with fury. "You ask why I'm doing this to you … why did you murder her?"

The color drained from Julian's face. _How does he know? How? _The petty thief tried to pull away, but Phantom merely increased his hold and shook him for good measure. "Answer me," the ghost growled, his voice becoming guttural.

"I-I didn't mean to," Julian stuttered, though he knew it was a weak excuse. His response earned him a powerful punch to the gut, and he squeezed his eyes shut, his mouth gaping open like a fish out of water.

"_Liar_," Phantom seethed, releasing Julian's face with a disgusted shove. "You knew what you were doing. You knew the moment you went into that house what you'd have to do. Admit it." Julian could barely get enough air to breathe, let alone answer the ghost. "Admit it!"

The thief shook dark hair out of his eyes and finally managed to drag air into his badly abused lungs. The effort left him coughing and shaking all over. He couldn't answer Phantom. The guilt over what he'd done was washing over him, making him feel sick. Or maybe it was the fact that his instincts were warning him of impending danger. Though, just looking at Phantom was enough to send his survival instincts spinning into chaos.

"You sicken me," Phantom spat, a fierce energy forming around his large, tightly clenched fists. "Everyone like you deserves no pity. You deserve to be eradicated, removed from this Earth." A horrible snarl appeared on his face, marred with wrinkles of hate and rage. "All you know is how to cause pain against those who don't deserve it. You are no better than scum."

Julian, trembling, shook his head. He wasn't like that. Killing that woman had never been part of his plan. It had just happened. She'd snuck up on him while he was in that house. It wasn't supposed to happen, but it had, it had. Phantom, in a fit of rage, brought his fist back before bringing it down across the thief's temple. A loud _crack_ filled the air, and Julian crumpled all the way to the ground, unmoving, barely breathing. Phantom was not affected by the sight like he would've been in his younger years.

Now, seeing this man – this monster – reduced to a lump of skin and bones brought a sense of satisfaction to him. The half-ghost wanted to do more, but he still couldn't bring himself to injure someone who was incapable of fighting back. He guessed it was an old part of himself that he'd thought had died years ago. Phantom's eyes pinched up at the corners when he thought of his younger self and an unwelcome image of his long dead family and friends filled his mind.

"No." He quickly shook his head, banishing the image to the far reaches of his sub-conscious. _I will not think of them … They're dead – and they aren't coming back. _Phantom had long since accepted this fact, merely to keep a hold over his sanity. He'd buried himself deep into his work of protecting his city – the city that he'd lost everything in. It was all he had left. He barely even remembered what his human form felt like. He hadn't been in it in years.

Emotions were harder to reach him in his ghost form. And he liked it that way. Phantom did not ever want to think of the day he'd watched helplessly as his family and friends were taken from him. He would not think of it. He was who he was now. The avenger of Amity Park.

Phantom stared down at the unconscious thief and anger filled his eyes. Before he could do something he might regret later, he bent down, snatched up the dropped bag full of stolen merchandise, and turned to leave the alley. The half-ghost paused, glanced over his shoulder, and shot a blast of ecto-energy into Julian's lower leg. The thief didn't react, but when he woke up … there would be pain.

Phantom didn't look back as he took to the air, making no sound but a soft whoosh of air.

ML: Uh … yes. This is pretty angst filled. Don't ask where it came from, I do not know. I just felt like writing an angsty older Danny who hates the world and all who inhabit it. *grins* I'm weird, I know. Well, this is probably gonna be a one-shot. I was quite bored today.


End file.
